


Flower Petals

by midlygay



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 and Yoosung being dorks, 707 doing his best, 707's Insecurities (:, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attack, Spoilers for Jaehee's Route, Spoilers for Yoosung's route, Unrequited Love, reset theory, some of his thoughts/issues are pretty graphic so proceed with caution please!!, trigger warning, will update tags as i update fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-26 10:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10784616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midlygay/pseuds/midlygay
Summary: Hanahaki Disease: When a patient begins hemorrhagging flower petals as a result of unrequited love.Seven has it bad. In more ways than one.





	1. The Green Orchid

Seven felt the first petal bubbling up and out of his throat on the tenth day of your entry into the RFA. It was easy to see that you had taken an obvious interest in Yoosung, which Seven thought was fitting. He was not as surprised as the rest of the RFA at the proclamation of "pre-girlfriend" and other cringe-worthy phrases between the two of you—Yoosung was amazing. He had a natural feminine air about him that Seven could only portray if he tried his best, and he also had high hopes for the future, even if tinges of doubt and gaming gnawed at the prospect. There was no one more suited to you.

If he was actually ranking all of them in order of suitability, Yoosung was at the top, and Seven's rightful place was at the bottom of that list. He was emotional, and he was wanted by many who would use foul methods to get to him. Seven could offer you nothing but danger and fear. Yoosung was the opposite, being a beautiful, radiant light into everyone's life, but being human enough to make mistakes, though he remained optimistic and encouraging.

How could Seven let such a person get hurt like this?

Like an idiot, he had sprinted out of the situation in the Mint Eye hideout with the switch in his hands and a dread in his heart. Yoosung had a large scuffle with Saeran—God, _Saeran_ —and his left eye was left a mangled mess. Seven heard the scream as he ran, but he kept running like an idiot. He was an idiot. The worst friend. Yoosung had gotten hurt because of him. Yoosung had screamed, and Seven had run.

And how he had run. Seven had been running from all of his problems for such a long time, and here they had come, bouncing back in the form of his broken little brother. His mind was racing with thoughts of their past, but one look at his best friend, and he was in shambles. The scream rang out in his head, accompanied with the dot of the bright night he had been blindly following in the hideout. It sent shivers down his spine even now. A coughing cackle from Saeran, followed by a breathless grunt. The screams from Yoosung, an unpleasant sound of fist against flesh, and sobs and footsteps blending in together. Disgusting. Painful. Suffering.

Avoidable.

Seven's hands were steady as he wiped away Yoosung's blood, surprisingly detached from his feelings. Yoosung sobbed on the back of Seven's car, his bright blood dripping onto the red paint, blending in quite well. It ran down the side, very fluid, and almost transparent. "Soup" is the word that came into Seven's mind when he tried to describe it, and he half-heartedly attempted a joke with the word. It didn't reach Yoosung's ears. It didn't really reach Seven's, either.

"Here," Seven muttered, grabbing a shirt from the backseat and pushing into Yoosung's hands. After the events, they had both huddled around Seven's car in an attempt to fix the mess they had left Mint Eye with. The shirt tightened in Seven's grip, and the injured man grabbed blindly for it. Tears and blood and a line of snot dripped down his face, and Yoosung's arms shot up and pushed the cloth into his face. Seven forced them down, wrestling against Yoosung's arms. The struggle ended with Seven pinning Yoosung against the hood of his car. He watched his battered friend choke on his own sobs, breathing heavily. Then, the crying stopped. The tears stopped. The blood stopped. It was heavy breathing against the wind. Silence.

"... I'm going to wipe off the blood on your eye. Bite this. If you scream, someone's going to hear, and it's game over... You can do this, Yoosung," Seven whispered, placing the cloth on the other's lips. A curt nod signaled his understanding, and Yoosung opened his good eye to stare straight into Seven's. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Seven broke, repeating the words over and over as he stroked Yoosung's face with a damp cloth. Yoosung balled his fists in Seven's shirt, muffling his groans through the cloth. Seven actually thought his shirt might tear with the force Yoosung was tugging on it with, but he didn't remove the touch. They could use the shirt anyways—the cloth in his hands was damp with red, bright red.

After the deed was done, they sat side by side in the car. Yoosung had calmed considerably. He heaved them in and out, but he was breathing. His eye was staying shut, but no more blood was to been seen, and even his shirt remained stain free from bodily fluids. Seven seldomly removed his eyes from Yoosung, only switching his stare to the lonely road when another car appeared. Silence plagued them, broken only by the quick taps of Yoosung's fingers on his phone. On his messenger.

How can you love someone enough to lose your sight for them? Seven understood that, right? He would do anything, everything for Saeran. Or... even someone else. But, for someone to care for you... someone to worry over you. Someone to love you. Would Seven ever know that?

"C-can you take a picture for me, Seven? I need her to know that I'm okay," Yoosung asked lightly, a soft smile on his lips. The request startled Seven out of his thoughts, and it took him a moment of focus to answer an energetic, "Anything for my lovebirds!" A heavy weight suddenly fell on his shoulders, but he gulped the feelings down and took Yoosung's phone with a little grin. The smile felt like plastic.

You loved Yoosung, he knew. And the love was reciprocated. You were a beautiful pair, the most beautiful pair.

_He shouldn't be be sad. Who said he was losing both of you? Neither of you ever belonged to him. No one ever loved him._

Yoosung let a lopsided smile fly at the camera, but it twitched and fell apart after a few seconds. He said a small, "Hmph," and attempted the action again, giving a thumbs-up for the camera, and keeping the smile on his face plastered as long as he could. Seven snapped the picture. He put the phone down. Yoosung's smile broke down in segments, with this thumbs-up balling into a fist in his lap, his lips retracting from their smile and disappearing where he went to bite his lip, and his eye. His eye, hiding under the palm of his hand where he applied pressure. Easing the pain.

Seven let his thoughts flow. "Yoosung, I'm so sorry. Are you listening to me? I'm sorry, Yoosung. If anyone, it should have been me, right? Not the RFA, not MC, not Saeran, and especially not you. You shouldn't have... Yoosung, I'm so sorry! Don't ever forgive me, okay? Promise me!" A barrage of tears and guilt blurred Seven's vision, but he pushed through. He had to get Yoosung to a hospital. He had to get as close as he could to fixing his mistake. The car sped on, despite Seven's tears.

Yoosung wasn't nearly as receptive to Seven's words as he would've thought. An angry glare at being left behind, a strike across the cheek for all the secrets, some hurtful words to express the pain Seven had caused him—anything would be fine. However, Yoosung simply looked tired, and he sighed when he rested himself against the headrest. After realizing that Yoosung was wearing out, Seven sat his foot on the gas pedal, quickening the time to get to the hospital. He felt tired too. A part of him wanted to let himself rot in the car and fall into a deep sleep, but thoughts of Yoosung kept him alert.

You were probably going to be upset with him too. Letting Yoosung get hurt. At least you could make him pay for the deeds he'd done. Seven had promised a safe Yoosung, and here was the final product. Yoosung, safe, but injured. Perhaps injured beyond repair. Perhaps enough to ruin his dreams of being a veterinarian.

More keyboard clicks sounded.

"Why are you typing right now?" Seven croaked, fixing his glare on the road ahead. He knew you were talking to him. He knew that the way Yoosung was dealing with his pain was by reminding himself that it was all for you.

The uncomfortable setting in his chest made his heart thump, scared of the words to come out of Yoosung's mouth. Seven wanted anger or detattchment to leak into Yoosung's voice. He didn't want to hear him call your name. Something green bubbled in his stomach, coveting the love his friend had. The love that you had given Yoosung, that he could never have. More frogs leaped into his throat.

"Since... she can't worry." Yoosung looked down at his phone, staring at the unfinished sentence. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but Seven stopped him. "Wait. We're almost at the hospital." God, Yoosung sounded so drained. This wasn't about you. It was about Yoosung's safety. Seven could still help him. How could you creep into his mind? How could you steal his mind from what was most important right now?

Yoosung's hand was suddenly on his arm, gripping it very tightly for someone who had practically lost their eye just hours before. "Seven, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Ask." He sounded strong in his own ears. Reliable. Much more steady than he felt.

"Don't tell the other members that I'm hurt."

God, all worked up for that? "Shut up. Don't talk to me while I'm driving and take care of yourself," Seven retorted coldly, again, masking his true feelings. Pushing people away was all he knew, and Yoosung—the boy was being ridiculous. His coldness was appropriate this time, wasn't it? Did he know how ridiculous he sounded? Of course he had to tell the others. Yoosung would do well with the worry and affection, anyways. Seven was moments away from breaking down with worry himself. The only thing Yoosung needed to focus on was his own wellbeing. He was a perfectly functioning person with a serious wound that could impair him for life. _For life...!_

_Isn't this my fault!?_

"Shit!" Seven pounded his fist against the window. Almost there. The hospital was in his sights. The meter dangled dangerously above the speed limits.

Yoosung was still mumbling under his breath, words meant for others' ears, Seven didn't know. "Party... make sure it happens... since she... worked so hard for it... please..."

...Seven."

Seven pursed his lips.

_Okay. I get it. You love her. She loves you. You're hurt. This is my fault. That party doesn't need to go on, but, damn it, Yoosung. We'll make it happen for you. Okay? It'll all be reality. Just hold on._

_I don't matter here. I'm not needed here. I only made things worse. Yoosung doesn't need me. She doesn't need me. I'm only putting the RFA in trouble. Why am I here?_

_Just hold on._

_**_

_He could have come back safely. I'm the one who broke down. Because of me, he could go blind._

_I'm a moron. An imbecile. Twitchy. Unstable. Unfit for all of them. All of them are amazing, and I am me. Someone who broke down when things got tough. Someone who cost Yoosung half of his sight. Someone who cost you of a healthy lover. He hurt you. You, who would look at him with contempt, and run back to Yoosung._

_What do I do? What should I do? What can I do?_

_God, what can I do? I shouldn't have let him come! He asked, and I could've said no! Even when we were there together, I could have stayed! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, everyone!_

_If I had just...! Yoosung wouldn't be hurt! I hurt him! I stabbed him in the eye! This is all my fault. This didn't have to happen._

_If it weren't for me, this wouldn't have happened. He would be safe. Why am I here? Why did I have to be here...? This isn't fair to them. All I do is hurt them..._

_..._

Seven sat alone in his car, head smushed against the wheel. Yoosung and V we're both in hospital room now. They were chatting when he left, V grasping Yoosung's hand on the gurney ride. The nurse had demanded to know the cause of this predicament, and when Seven remained silent, she shook her head and dismissed him from the waiting room. He was currently parked outside the hospital, paced just steps away from where he had greeted V moments before, and currently hemorrhaging.

If he wasn't a largley-wanted fugitive, he would've turned around and walked into the ER where he had just deposited Yoosung.

His throat was on fire. Literal, burning fire. There was no water around him, and he really did try to bust back into the hospital then—a water fountain caught his eye, but Seven couldn't remove himself from the support of his car. One hand rested on the door handle, and the other scratched at his neck. God, his throat...!

And then the coughing came. Seven hacked up a lung in the least metaphorical way, sputtering worse than Yoosung when he recieved a sincere compliment. The tremors wrecked his throat and tore it into pieces. Blood flew onto the floor below him, staining the concrete lot. As it was a hospital, it wouldn't look too out of place, would it? Seven wanted to laugh. He could only cough.

Acid swirled in his stomach, and Seven recoiled at the way his mouth filled with sour saliva. It was disguising, but not completely unwelcome. Rusty chains threw themselves over his heart and restricted his chest, tying down the last of his air supply. Was this a heart attack? Was he going to die here? Over a stupid panic attack, over his meaningless thoughts of wanting to disappear? The coughs rose in intensity, and Seven's last thought before the petal was, All I do is put them in danger.

A green orchid petal, dripping with bloodied saliva, fell at his feet. A petal...? Something like that was inside of him?! He couldn't remember how a plant had found its way into him. The petal was the thing that caused that much trouble... huh? Seven took a moment to catch his breath, and then stumbled to the water fountain.

_All I do is put them in danger._

_I'm a hazard._

_Better off without me._

He stomped the petal at his feet into powder, along with the feelings in his heart.


	2. The Brown Cymbidium

A new day, a new timeline. A new you.

Or, a sort of new you. You remained positive and bright, but there was a more practical air about you now. The way you weren't afraid to snap at Jumin or reprimand Yoosung was what stood out the most. In particular, you had taken a liking to Jaehee, and the two of you bonded in the chat over mundane and deep things alike. A sudden interest in Zen also appeared, though not in the way Seven would've thought. You became his fan. Just like her. Somehow, you had stayed the same, but you had changed in the slightest of ways.

Somehow, Seven still fell for you.

Jaehee was changing rapidly in the light of your newfound presence in the RFA. She suddenly put her foot down in the face of her boss, and It was undoubtedly thanks to you. You had turned her life upside down in those eleven days. Now, she was free to do what she wished, and the two of you pursued happiness together, encouraging each other with friendly little glances and sweet chats. Seven had to bite his tongue to keep from predicting the foreseeable future—You loved each other, didn't you? Again...?!

A bell rang in the back in the back of his head. There was some disorientation on the first day of the "reset", as he referred to the weird deja-vu by, but he didn't let it show. Everyone else was acting like it was the first time, so Seven did as well. You were thrust into the RFA, confused but eager, but the memory of your face was already in Seven's mind for some odd reason. Your looks, the tone of your voice, the routine of your habits at Rika's apartment—no change. The only change was the chat room. Yoosung had floated down your priority list and fluttered dejectedly at the bottom, and the new object of your affection was now Jaehee. She wasn't nearly as flustered as Yoosung, and regarded you with suspicion, but you pushed forward. You pushed until you squeezed into her heart, and even went so far as to open a buisness with her. You went out of your way to defend her and cherish her.

_...what the hell? Weren't you with Yoosung?_

Seven thought it about it everyday. There was no way he would remember such vivid pictures of you and Yoosung unless they were real. Yet, here you were, standing by Jaehee, sending her loving glances from the cash register. The shop was bustling. Yoosung was seated across from Seven with his chin on his palm. Many days had passed since your entrance into the RFA, and he still thought about it. You used to be with Yoosung, right? Was that memory a dream? Was it a fantasy? Was it real?

Whatever it was, this was reality now. Seven followed Yoosung's eyes to you. You were manning the cashier, ringing up a to-go customer with a little pink paper bag in one hand and a decorated cardboard box in the other. You were wearing a fluffy apron, with flour dusting your cheeks in all the right places. A bandana held your hair back, giving you a maternal look, which did match your gaze quite well. Even with all the flour, the result of some playtime with Jaehee inside the pantry, the red on your cheeks was visible. The contrast matched the new red velvet cake on display, one of which was hiding one of your shoulders from Seven's view. He looked back at up at your focused eyes and traced the target of it to the other woman of the RFA. She was in a similar state as you, but Seven wasn't intrigued enough to mull over her appearance. He loved Jaehee, but not the was he loved you.

You loved someone else. The hurt was something he remembered vividly. Despite everything, that remained the same.

Yoosung tapped his finger on Seven's coffee mug (which was very bitter, but he had agreed to your special of the day without thinking when you offered it to him), and gesturing his hand pointedly towards the two women manning the counter. "Don't they look happy? They both look so cute in aprons," Yoosung commented with a soft smile. Seven nodded, copying a playful grin from his mind and pasting it on his face. "Wahh, this new shop is so gap moe! I still can't believe Jaehee made such a cute place!" Seven exclaimed, giving himself an excuse to turn his eyes back on you. The new shop had just debuted a month ago, but it was full. You two were doing great together.

Why was it so hard for Seven to feel happy for you two?

Yoosung hummed in agreement, and he bent his head down in an awkward way to fit his lips onto his straw. Seven chuckled and took his own straw into his mouth, recoiling when he remembered that he was drinking black coffee. Ugh. If he was really feeling tired, his caffeine supply would go down much more easily if his drink was a Dr. Pepper instead of a cup of lifeless liquidated beans.

He dared not say it to you. You had announced that Jaehee was teaching you judo recently, and Seven wasn't looking to test out your skills.

However, he did wasnt to try something that he had been too afraid to act upon for the past seven months. Now that Yoosung was tangibly in front of him, Seven had an urge to share his feelings with him. This time around, Seven had Yoosung to tease and dote on. You hadn't stolen Yoosung's heart along with Seven's when you came. This time, this reset, Seven was the only one bearing the pain of unrequited—

Oh, right. You had loved Yoosung back then. Seven was always the only one dealing with that kind of pain. He hadn't identified the hurt in his chest yet, but it was there. When he looked at you and Jaehee. When he remembered the soupy leftovers of Yoosung's eye. When he remembered your lips forming the words, _"I love you, Kim Yoosung."_ There were chains around Seven's chest, and they hung loosely around him, but they were always there. Not always restricting, but always applying pressure, reminding him of their prescence. They suddenly tugged, retracting and causing him to gasp softly, so he went ahead and let the heavy words in his mind escape through his mouth. Anything, anything to be distracted from those rusty chains.

"Yoosung, do you ever think about what life would be like if she had liked you back then?" Seven asked, realizing a second too late that his words weren't subtle in the slightest. Well, that determined the direction of this conversation. Dredging up Yoosung's confession to him after the RFA party that he had liked you at the beginning, but had already begun forgetting the affection. That was the way he decided to start this chat. Seven slapped himself back and forth internally. He quickly went over the points in his head, preparing himself against Yoosung's curious gaze. The flashbacks were most likely a form of deja-vu, fueled by his active imagination. But, if it happened to be real, if some foul play was afoot...

...the ones to know would be you or Yoosung. _Especially_ you. You're the one who had changed. Seven remained glad that he had happened to go with the first option.

...But, Yosung was currently looking up at him in disbelief, as if Seven hadn't asked him a question, but told him that he was pregnant with Jumin's baby.

Seven held back a scoff at the thought. Geez, his mind was somewhere else when he was talking to Yoosung.

Surprisingly enough, after a pregnant ( _lolololol, I'm so funny,_ Seven thought mildly) pause of shock, Yoosung was surprisingly calm about the inquiry. His cheeks were tinted red, but not flushed in the way Seven anticipated. The boy (he had been asking for Seven to refer to him as a man, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon) giggled nervously, and Seven bit back his tongue. Seriously, how many reasons could Yoosung give to tease him?! Too easy!

"That's a little overdue, Seven!" A light laugh. "You know, I've thought about that before, too. But I can't imagine it anymore." A cold hand, glistening with the moisture from his glass, rubbing the back of his heated neck. "She's... liked Jaehee from the start. I was never an option in her mind, was I?" A melancholy sigh.

Seven listened closely, hanging on the other's words. "Never an option." What were these flashes of memory he was having, then? Your face on the CCTV, Yoosung's soup-like remains of his eye, the way he kissed you at the RFA party— _what am I thinking? Did I have some vivid fucked up dream? Maybe all the sleepless nights I've had are catching up to me... maybe all the lost dreams I haven't had made a giant monster dream—no, nightmare—and it's going to take me captive and—_

"Why are you asking, Seven?" Yoosung tilted his head at him, and Seven tried his hardest to resist telling him everything.

_I'm asking because I don't know why these false memories are in my head. Because the place I'm in is this uncomfortable space between missing them and moving on. Because you're the one that would've remembered. But it looks like I'm alone again._

The chains gave an experimental squeeze.

Seven gave a hearty cackle and waved his hand dissmissively in the air. "Yoosung, it was just a question. Don't hurt yourself trying to read into it too much!" Seven laughed, feeling a bit out of breath when Yoosung gave him a childish pout. The other _hmphed_ at him and swirled his decorated drink around with his straw, letting the whipped cream topping melt into the rest of the mixture. "You shouldn't be so childish, Mr. Corporate Slave. Now that you're officially Jumin's assistant, a pout won't suit you so well," Seven continued, a grin locking into place when Yoosung's eyes widened.

"I can't pout anymore?"

Seven shook his head, solemn. "Nope."

"So, I can't be childish anymore?"

"Not at all. Banishment is the punishment."

"Can't I still be cute?!"

"Not unless you want to get fired."

"Gahh! This wasn't on the contract!" Yoosung squealed, shoving his head in his hands. Seven did his best to keep a straight face. He could never feel down when he was with Yoosung. "The hair clips are going to have to go, too. This is part of growing up," Seven promised, patting Yoosung's ducked head consolingly. His hair was soft, and when Seven looked down at him, he noticed his own quivering fingers. God, he hadn't realized how nervous his body was.

Yoosung placed his hand over Seven's and tugged the hand down from his hair. "Seven, I don't know if I can do this. Jumin said I had a lot of potential, but all I really do is game and make western food. What if he fires me soon? Or worse, what if I become like Jaehee before _she_ came?" He asked, worry shining in his eyes. Seven squeezed the boy's hand. Yoosung was always so open and honest. It was one of his favorite things about him.

"Yoosung, Jumin already knows that you just game and cook! All of us do!" Seven reassured, and before Yoosung could start sobbing, he continued. "You're like a starfish, Yoosung. You're really pretty, and when someone sees you, they want to poke your cheeks and take you home. Let me show you~" Seven did as he said he would, and Yoosung frowned, pawing the hand away. "What does this have to do with my problem?!" He cried. The next sound that came out of his mouth matched his emoji counterpart down to the last frequency, and Seven stifled another laugh.

"Wait! Starfish attach themselves to whatever they land on, and they don't let go. You get really creepily obsessed with whatever you're doing, Yoosung. You did it when you were playing LOLOL, eating western food, watching K-drama, going to that teen hairstyle class, talking to her on the messenger, watching cheesy pet play porn on MeTube—"

"Th-that's enough! I get it! Thanks for your encouragement, Seven!" Yoosung shrieked, covering Seven's mouth. The inside of his palm smelled like honeydew and citrus, despite the bead of sweat forming at Yoosung's brow. "But, what was that thing you said about her?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

Shit. Seven hadn't meant to let that slip.

His fingers tapped on the table incessantly as he wondered whether he should spill the beans or not. They were still twitching slightly ("Seven, relax. You don't have to be so anxious!") but Seven squeezed the cold glass in hands. Better cold than sweaty.

Ah, whatever. Memory-shmemory. Since the cat was out of the bag, he might as well give it all away.

"Really, Yoosung, you forgot that fast? I'm sure she'd be hurt if she knew that... don't you remember talking to her on the messenger? You called her cheesy things like 'pre-girlfriend' and 'sweetie'. My brother stabbed your eye out. And then, at the RFA party, you told everyone, 'Katie changed my life, she makes me so happy!' and kissed her in front of everyone—you were so bold. V was still around, and you forgave him and everything. He helped you pick out a collar for Lisa, your cat. You got a cat. And you named her Lisa, let me play with her, and then she said on the messenger that you would look good with a collar, and you fainted. There was blood from your nosebleed everywhere, hehe. You asked my for advice on Valentine's Day because you saw her—your fiancé at that point—asking Zen for help, and you were worried he was going to upstage you. We baked a cake. We made homemade icing at your apartment and wrote on the top—"

Seven knew he was babbling. However, the confused, concerned look on Yoosung's face scared him, and he had to prolong the time between this point and now. The time between the moment he had made the mistake of sharing the damned memories in his head, and the other moment, when Yoosung would shake Seven's shoulders and ask him if he was okay and tell everyone what he had said and how insane he was for thinking that there was a time when you had loved Yoosung and decided to spend the rest of your life with him and Jesus Christ he couldn't do that what would you say and

_I'm even babbling in my thoughts. What words are coming out of my mouth...? I can't hear my voice. Can Yoosung hear me? Can I disappear right now?_

As if someone had been ordered to halt Seven's words on cue, the chains were forcefully strewn over Seven's back and wrapped around his throat. He coughed. He sputtered and slurred the rest of his sentence, letting it drip from his mouth like dejected water droplets from a leaky faucet. He looked up at Yoosung.

Tears. Of course Yoosung would be crying right now. A water sat in his hand, conjured out of thin air, and Yoosung thrust it towards Seven's lips. He wanted to take it, but he had to get away first. He knew what was coming.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Seven heaved. He threw a lazy excuse of a smile towards Yoosung's general direction and sprinted towards the blue sign in the corner of the shop. Ugh, here was the spit, moistening his lips. Here it comes. _God, please help me. Not now. Not here. Please. C'mon, c'mon..._

He felt the swishing of fluids in his stomach, burning a hole into his abdomen. Seven placed a hand to his chest in an attempt to cover the hole, but the abyss swallowed his touch instead. The burning fire spread across his skin, lighting aflame the hairs of his arm like it was dry grass, sinking into the pores of his skin like a hole in a submarine drowning in the depths of the Pacific. Seven bit back a shout, knowing by now that it was all too futile. He'd been through this before. He'd be okay, he knew it, but...

_God, why is this happening now? Yoosung's out there. The longer this takes me, the more time he has to think about what I said. He can tell Jaehee in that time. Jesus Christ, he could tell you in that time. These damn petals, these damn memories, I'm an idiot for trying to—_

Pain ripped through his upper body. The chains had decided they'd had enough fun with Seven's pulse, and decided to go all out. The accumulating saliva piling in Seven's mouth made the chains rust with spiky brown, and they weren't chains anymore—they had morphed into whips. Seven's rapid breathes were only fanning the flames, and warm colors burst at the edge of his vision.

_Toilet, toilet...! I'm not... God, please... Let it be over soon, please..._

_This is far from over,_ God told him, twirling the whips in his hand. _You haven't suffered, let alone_ atoned _, at all. This is only the beginning._

Seven made it to the toilet stall. The sound of his heartbeat in his ears blinded him to the prescence of any other men in the room, but he didn't care either way. Wait, he did care. He cared so much. Too much.

_Yoosung, you have no idea what I was talking about. Forget it. Forget it, just forget the whole thing. Every word that's come out of my mouth since the day you first talked to me. I'm nothing but a hazard to you. Do you know how dangerous it was for me to come outside? If someone saw me here with you, someone that knew who I worked for, what do you think they would do to you? Would they kidnap you? Would they hold you for ransom? Would they stab you in your left eye until it was closer to a liquid than a solid? Until your face was covered in so much blood than you looked more like a demon than a human?_

_Get away from me. I'm insane. I've gone insane. The things I just said are crazy. 'Another day, another life, another you,' what am I thinking?!_

_And,_ you...! _What are you doing? Do you know what just happened? What's happening in the stall of your new shop's men's restroom, are you aware of it? No, right? Jaehee's there. You love Jaehee. She loves you too. Are you happy? She loves you! Yoosung loved you! I... I'm just here..._

_Why am I here...? What have I done here? V, what do I do? Where are you? Come tell me what to do. I can't figure this out. I'm dying here. I'm going to die here. Maybe I should just die here. V, come out of your hiding spot. Stop being missing. Stop keeping secrets and sacrificing yourself. Her and Jaehee are safe now. You can come out._

_Help me, just help me. I deserve this. I deserve this pain, it's all my fault, but still, please help me..._

The first petal he had regurgitated was floating in the top of the toilet water. More were following and bubbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, frantic to see the light of day. The green orchid, accompanying every bout of jealously and hopelessness he had say since Day 1 of the reset lay before him, tainted by their good friends, Blood Clumps. Couldn't hack up a flower or lung alike without the Blood Clumps. The red mixed inside the toilet water and ran down the side, making another little chump at the bottom. Along with these two, a new type of monster began spilling from his mouth. Cymbidium petals, brown. Perhaps a shade of yellow. Seven was never in a right enough mind to tell.

Ah, he couldn't even see. Either he had blacked out from a lack of oxygen supply to his brain, or he had his eyes closed and was too afraid to open them. Something wet was on his hands, and he tasted a grotesque mixture of copper and salt in his mouth. Tears...?

Why tears? He wasn't sad. Seven wasn't sad. He was confused. What the hell was happening to him? Flower petals and false memories—what was happening to him?

_You want to disappear, Seven. Do you get what that means? Thinking about how better off the world would be without you, and all this death. You want to die._

No, no, no...!!

Seven stuck his hands on the sides of the toilet and let himself fall to his knees. He needed air. Seven was forgetting to breathe. Ah, silly Seven. Idiot Seven. Pathetic, bastard Seven.

The whips relentlessly attacked his back, and they were moving the assault up to his throat. When they reached their destination, they didn't let go. Whips wrapped around his neck and pulled themselves into a knot. He couldn't breathe! Damn it, he couldn't breathe...!

_I'm going to die here! The petals aren't coming out of me anymore, so why...?! Why can't I breathe?!_

His vision, bleeding warm colors, was slowly fading into black, beginning with the edges of the bathroom stall. The interior was no longer cute and inviting—dark spots infected the walls and tile, until Seven was alone in the dark.

_Just like home._

He thought of his mother. He thought of his twin. He thought of what a pathetic death this would be, laying in your store's bathroom, second stall from the left.

Seven heaved a small breath, then stopped trying.

**

_V's missing. He's been missing for the past seven months. Who's responsible for the RFA's safety? I am._

_Why am I here? You were the most important to me. You, from the very first day, were beautiful. Through any screen or chatroom or crappy phone speaker, you were amazing. Those memories of mine are probably fake and pointless, but it would've happened. If you had wanted Yoosung instead, that's exactly what would've happened._

_Pick me. I don't why. I can't offer you anything but danger, but pick me._

_I'm disgusting. 707 is a liar disguised as a hero, yes, I know. Seven-oh-seven doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve Yoosung, Zen, Jaehee, Jumin, no one. He doesn't deserve V or Rika. And he definitely doesn't deserve Saeran. Saeran deserved so much more, and so did you._

_I don't want to die. I want to hope that tomorrow will be better. It's so pathetic, but I hope that you'll choose me._

_**_

_One foot in front of the other, and... ♪_

"Seven, are you okay?" Yoosung stood up as soon as Seven waltzed out of the bathroom, looking as though he had just come back from a club called _I'll Run My Fingers Through Your Hair Until It Looks Like You Got Lucky_ and then paid an unplanned visit to the well-renowned tourist attraction, commonly referred to as _We'll Take Your Breath Away—Literally♡_

Seven scratched his head. Gears turned in his brain, the electric spark of his heart cranking back on after its sudden power failure. He'd been running on the emergency generator for twenty minutes, dozing between a breathless conscious and the terrifying train of his thoughts while he was slumped over the rim of the toilet (ugh, he felt so gross). Both were shrouded in the dark. What a useless, counterproductive trip to the bathroom that was. Seven was just glad he was lucky enough for a buddy of Yoosung's to come by and occupy his friend for the last half hour. He would be in a very different situation if Yoosung, or anyone, for that matter, had decided to check up on him in the bathroom. They'd stumble on a stall of panic attacks and petals.

_Panic attacks? Petals? C'mon, 707, get your head in the game! This is no time to be slacking off, soldier!_

"Yoosung, forgive me. I... have completely ruined the plumbing in stall four. It's in desperate need of Fobreeze and a plunger," Seven said gracefully, doing his best to bow. His body was aching all over, even in places Seven thought his mental state could not touch. Anxiety, right? That's what Yoosung had called it before? Seven didn't care. Or, at the very least, he didn't care at this moment. Had to repair the damage he had caused.

Yoosung groaned a sigh of relief, and proceeded to playfully slap his hand against Seven's shoulder in a back and forth movement, as a "little payback for making me worry!" He attempted to introduce Seven to the coffee club president from SKY university, but too much swam in Seven's mind for him to converse properly. He was going to have hell to explain to Yoosung the next day. How dare Seven let his cheery self slip, especially in public. Way to let everyone down again, 707. Defender Of Justice my ass. What a hero you are. Horrayyyyyyy.

Coffee Guy picked up his plastic cup from the table and waved them goodbye. Seven was ready to deal with Yoosung. He was ready to face you and Jaehee and everyone, chin up, spirits up, sunny-side up, light 'em up, put 'em up, partner, show me your hands, high in the sky! Let me see those hands!!

...Maybe he needed come recovery time. A headache was scratching at his brain, demanding entrance.

With a tug on his shirt, Yoosung asked slowly, "Seven, you were in there for a really long time. The fudge cake is cold. Are you really okay?"

_Haha, that's me. Mr. Okay, at your service._

"I'm telling you, Yoosung, I really messed up this time. They're going to find out that I took a dump and clogged the toilet," Seven whispered. Yoosung was listening intently, and Seven could point to the exact moment in Yoosung's facial features when he realized that he was listening to nothing more than Seven's bullshit. _Lolololol_.

"Hey, I was really worried about you! And then, I had to talk with the Barista Assosiation's president for half an hour. I couldn't talk about coffee for that long."

_Did he forget about all that stuff I said, about the reset? Yahooo! I'm safe! For now, at least! Thank you, naive Yoosung!_

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, sweet Yoosung. You did your best! Here, have a token of my gratitude!"

"Seven, don't blow in my ear!! And, I did, didn't I? Hehe. You must've done your best too, if you stunk up the whole restroom. Or maybe it's your worst..."

"Eugh, let's change the topic away from my bowel issues. That guy likes coffee? We can set him up with Jaehee!"

"Seven, you're a genius...!"

_..._

_...Yoosung..._

_Haha, V... even you..._

_I'm hoping that you all stay like this... I hope you laugh and smile forever. Be happy without me._

_I don't think I can keep smiling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...whew. Now we're going somewhere scary. lol
> 
> I'm planning to do a zoom on Zen's route next, but I'm still playing his route. Before I write the next chapter, I've got to get some endings for him, so expect a week of not much!!
> 
> Again, thank you all for reading <3 Comments and any sort of feedback is appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, however dark it was!
> 
> (...can you tell that i'm a huge yooseven fan? lololol)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first fic, and I was very nervous to publish it, but even so, all kinds of feedback are appreciated.（╹◡╹）♡
> 
> This story, Seven's story, has to do with the reset theory, but is not explicitly about the reset theory. You'll see what I'm saying when we get there~
> 
> Just in case any of you were confused, the italicized text was Seven's internal monologue. Well, technically all of it is in his perspective, but the italicized parts are special excerpts of his mind. All of this is from Seven's POV.
> 
> The next chapter is on its way! Thank you for giving this fic some of your time! :3


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